


Examination

by DarkDreamsOfHannigram



Series: At His Mercy [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Mask and/or straightjacket porn, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Non-Consensual, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDreamsOfHannigram/pseuds/DarkDreamsOfHannigram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter pays a visit to Will Graham in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Despite pretenses, he's not there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Examination

“You haven’t been eating very much, _Mister_ Graham. We’re worried there’s something physically wrong with you. We’re going to have to sedate you now, so that you can be given a proper medical exam. You’ll be awake for it, but you do have this unfortunate tendency to put up a fight when you’re being strapped down to something. So tell me – why do you think you’re losing so much weight?”

Dr. Chilton tended to speak in the most condescending tone he could muster. Will wouldn’t look at him when he spoke.

 _That is a ridiculous question_ , he thought. _Would you like to eat by being spoon-fed by someone wearing a bite-proof glove?_ But still he kept quiet.

“We can’t have you hurting anyone, like you were prone to do after you were here for a few days. You seemed so calm at first. What happened?”

_You know what happened. You let him visit me. I didn’t take it very well._

“Doctor Lecter is very concerned for you, as are we all. In fact, he insisted on performing the exam himself.”

Chilton knew how to rattle Will, but this was beyond his usual tactics. Will’s eyes widened, and he hissed, voice raspy with disuse: “Doctor _Lecter_ doesn’t practice medicine anymore.”

“We’re already doing better!” Chilton said with forced brightness. “That is the first thing you’ve said in over two weeks. We’re supposed to be getting you fit to stand trial, and well, if you aren’t talking, it poses a problem.”

Chilton had no real idea of why Will wanted Hannibal to stay away, but he knew this would provoke a response. And that was all he cared about. Will had become resistant to talking, eating, reacting in any way at all since he’d come to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. At first he’d just sat in his cell staring at the wall. But then Lecter visited, and he had become violent, and then later increasingly withdrawn. They couldn’t even assess his current mental state, so the mask and straightjacket and padded cell had to say in place. Chilton wanted to shake him up, and this was the only surefire way he knew how. He was too self-absorbed to really see Hannibal Lecter at all. Mostly, he just felt a slight sense of unease around the man; but narcissism kept him from reflecting upon it in any meaningful way. He thought he was using Lecter as a tool to pry open Will’s mind a crack. But letting the psychiatrist, and Will’s former friend, do the examination was more of Hannibal’s idea, though he had concealed this well behind a veil of care.

“I’m afraid he insisted upon it. Now, be a good boy and don’t try to hurt the nurse.”

Two large orderlies and an even larger nurse came at him with a needle. Will’s instinct was to try to struggle as much as he could, as much as the straightjacket would let him. But this new situation made his resolve harden to not give Chilton the satisfaction of seeing him react. So he let them inject him without trouble, and was almost immediately plunged into darkness.

…..

The loss of time while under sedation was one of its more disturbing features to Will, who never wanted to feel that again. This was all so confusing; he felt his eyes fluttering open, and realized immediately that he was strapped down to a cold metal examination table. He still had the straightjacket on and was alarmed to realize that it had been unbuckled at the groin, and, although he was covered in a sheet, he was naked from the waist down. There was a strap at his shoulders, and one just above the waist; he was bound at the ankles to some kind of attachment at either side of the edge of the table, spreading his legs.

Feeling movement behind his head, and hearing the _snap_ of a surgical glove. He jerked in surprise.

“Hello, Will. I’m glad you’ve awakened.”

The realization of what was about to transpire came crashing back to him, and he shivered involuntarily. This did not go unnoticed. Hannibal circled around the table to loom over Will. He looked at the completely immobilized man and tried his best to look concerned.

“I hope you’re not too cold. This is the only way I can examine you. I’m told you haven’t been very cooperative. I am going to try to determine if there is any physical cause of your lack of appetite.”

Will didn’t look back at him, instead just staring straight up at the ceiling. It was then that he noticed the camera that usually tracked any movements he made in the cell was off, for the first time. How Lecter had convinced Chilton to stop monitoring him, even temporarily, was a testament to the Doctor’s manipulation skills. This was the worst sort of game, everyone knew he wasn’t eating because he was uncomfortable and angry. But Hannibal proceeded to take the sheet off of him anyway, and press on his abdomen in various places; feeling his liver, seeing if there was any point tenderness or distention.

After this cursory attempt at medical legitimacy, Hannibal began to adjust the examination table. A panel at its bottom slid under the rest of it, and this left Will’s legs only supported by two long metal bars. And these were folded in, so that his knees were bent and his legs parted quite wide, with the table now ending at his very exposed ass. Will could just about brace his feet on the edges.

He continued to try not to look at Hannibal, who was, to his horror, applying a lubricating gel to the fingers of one of his latex-gloved hands. He began inserting one long finger inside of Will’s tight hole. He tried, in vain, to resist.

“Will, you have to breathe and stay calm. I’m not going to hurt you. Prostate massage can be quite pleasurable. I’m doing this to help you relax.”

Instead of giving him time to adjust, quite contrary to any sort of goal of relaxation, Hannibal inserted another finger and began to stroke Will this way from the inside. He realized there was no getting out of this situation, and as much as he hated this man being so close to him, it was also the case that he hadn’t been touched or been able to stimulate himself for a long time either. His body began to betray him as his cock hardened quickly.

“Good, Will, you’re doing very well. I think you need this, don’t you?” He inserted a third finger, and Will involuntarily arched his back. His resolve to not enjoy this was no match for Hannibal’s superior knowledge of anatomy. He knew just how to put pressure on the right place, and then decrease it gradually, making Will want it to return. The cessation of the teasing became more torturous than its presence. His did this over and over, repeating a cycle of slow and fast, gentle and hard. By now Will was using the small amount of leverage he could get from his feet to try and push into the profane treatment, rather than away from it.

Will was as hard as he had ever been, and he was starting to leak drops of precum in an amount that surprised even Hannibal. He traced the head of the wet cock with his other gloved hand, touches feather-light. A gasp escaped Will’s mouth, and he cursed himself inwardly; from now on he’d have to bite his lip to avoid demonstrating just how much he liked this, despite himself. But Hannibal wanted to hear more; wanted Will to feel out of control. This debasement was beautiful to him. If he couldn’t continue to break apart Will’s mind on the outside world, then he’d have to do it here. Every chance he got.

Will was breathing very heavily now, and a sheen of his hot breath had formed a fog on the inside of his clear face mask. Hannibal looked at this appreciatively, and Will glanced at him just in time to see a corner of his mouth rise. Will was aghast at himself, and sickened by how much Hannibal seemed to be enjoying this, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had no control over his environment because of the straightjacket and straps; and he had no control over his body under Hannibal’s ministrations. He could only fuck himself harder on Hannibal’s fingers, buck his hips into the hand that now more tightly gripped his cock, which ached with need. _At least this will be over soon_. But Hannibal knew how to draw such things out, and backed down again, leaving Will desperate for more. _He’s making me want it_. _There’s nothing I can do._ Will felt as if his mind really would break this time; at least before, when Hannibal had framed him for so many deaths, he’d regained his sense of reality after receiving proper medical treatment for his encephalitis. But now, he was at the mercy of Chilton’s “therapy” which apparently consisted of letting Hannibal Lecter do whatever he wanted to him.

Time and again, he was brought close to orgasm, biting his lip and trying to prevent himself from making a sound. And even though he mask stopped it from being visible, it was obvious that this was what he was doing. But he was getting more and more lost in this, and small whines escaped. Soon he tasted blood.

“Will. Cease biting your lip. I don’t want you doing yourself harm. I can make this go on for a very long time if you do not.”

_Bullshit. But what choice do I have?_

Reluctantly, Will released his lip. If there was any small consolation, Lecter couldn’t see the lower part of his face, due to the clouded mask. And he could, and did, close his eyes, not letting his tormenter see the pain and conflict that he knew would show. His breath rasped through the small breathing holes as the pressure inside of him against his prostate increased now and did not let up. As soon as he felt the stroking of his cock grow faster and harder, the final betrayal of his body arose, and he came hard, with a long, low howl. With each thrust of the hard fingers, a jet of cum surged onto the straightjacket. It went on and on, Will’s legs shaking, thrashing against all of the straps that held him down.

He felt himself flickering out of consciousness for a few seconds; what brought him back to reality was the feeling of Lecter’s fingers disengaging from his stretched and sore hole, and the sound of the gloves being pulled off and discarded. Hannibal cleaned the straitjacket off, released the exam table’s lower panel, and straightened Will’s legs. He replaced the sheet. To an observer, it would seem like that obscenity had never happened.

A large tear rolled from Will’s eye, and Hannibal regarded it with a detached curiosity. But there was that slight tic at the corner of his mouth again. _At least he betrays himself too._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> More horrors from the fallout of the Season 2 poster, once again inspired by the most evil blog on tumblr, haanigram.


End file.
